


We Stay for Maybe Quite a While

by Pervasive_Threnody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Cats, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Love, M/M, Romance, Silly, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pervasive_Threnody/pseuds/Pervasive_Threnody
Summary: Which kind of cat would Rodney McKay be?  Also, how much wooddoesa woodchuck chuck?  Rodney thinks he knows, but the world may never know.  It's John's fault.  It's always John's fault.Warning:  Pointless fluff.





	We Stay for Maybe Quite a While

"I'm just stating facts here:  Were you to _be_ a cat, I would lay very good money on the odds of your being some sort of dark-haired _thing_ , of probably questionable ancestry."  
  
"I'm Irish," John said.  "Mostly."  
  
"Thank you for proving my point."  
  
"So are you."  
  
Rodney blinked, closed his mouth, opened it again.  
  
"Genius, folks."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"And what's wrong with dark hair?"  
  
"What?  Nothing.  Why?"  
  
"Just wondering why you felt the need to specify hair color.  Got something against black cats, _McKay_?"  
  
"No, and again, shut up.  Because it's a defining feature of a cat?"  
  
"Not necessarily.  Some cats don't even _have_ hair."  
  
"Well, it seems to be a trait that defines _you_ , so it makes sense in this context."  
  
"It's just my hair," John said.  "It's on my head.  You seem more obsessed with it than I am."  
  
Rodney blushed.  Furiously.  
  
"I am not."  
  
" _Way_ more."  
  
"Enough about _me_.  We were talking about _you_."  
  
"How characteristically gracious of you to turn the subject away from yourself, but I insist.  What kind of cat would Rodney McKay be?"  
  
"This is rhetorical, right?  Like how much wood a woodchuck could chuck?  Nobody ever answers that question."  
  
"I'm guessing you've tried."  
  
"Of course I have, but that isn't the point."  
  
"Wait, I wanna know more about this."  
  
"Nope.  We're talking about cats, not wood-chucking rats.  Now you have to tell me.  And you'd better make it good or you'll never know the results of my chucking-wood hypotheses."  
  
"Oh, there's more than _one_?"  
  
"Do you even _know_ me?"  
  
"Good point."  
  
At that moment the cat entered the room.  It stretched luxuriously, claws raking the nice new rug with apparent total lack of shame.  It leapt onto the bed, made itself comfortable over approximately three-fourths of the space, looked straight at them, and started bawling its head off.    
  
They looked back at it.  
  
John looked at Rodney and grinned.  
  
"Don't _even_ ," Rodney said.  
  
"We are Siamese, if you please!"  
  
"Oh my _god_."  
  
"We are Siamese, if you don't please!"  
  
"Your voice is _hideous_ , stick to those horrible Cash songs--"  
  
"Now we looking over our new domicile!"  
  
"Myoooowr~"  
  
"Go _die_!"  
  
"If we like, we stay for maybe quite a while!"  
  
"Never mind, I'm killing _myself_ ," Rodney moaned, and shoved his head under his pillow.  Muffled:  "Goodbye, cruel world."  
  
The cat meandered over and deposited itself on Rodney's pillow.  
  
"Hey.  It was a cute movie.  Everybody likes that song."  John plucked up the cat.  "We'll stop.  Don't kill yourself."  
  
The cat jabbered away with happy chirrups and throaty meows as John scratched it.  
  
"Well, _I'll_ stop."  
  
Rodney emerged from his suicide hut, looking wounded, his hair sticking up in various directions.  
  
"Siamese, really?" he whined.  "That's what you think of me?"  
  
"Yeah.  Why not?"  
  
"Because, because, everyone thinks of that damn movie, the obnoxious song!  _That Darn Cat!_ "    
  
"So?"  
  
"Can't you come up with _something_ a bit more flattering?"  
  
"No.  Do you want flattering or accurate?"  
  
"Both?"  
   
"We'll start with accurate.  Siamese cats got their reputation for good reason.  Pushy.  Opinionated.  Bossy.  Loud as hell.  High-maintenance.  Needy."  
  
The cat in John's arms grumbled and shoved its head into his hand.  
  
"This _is_ going to end with some sort of conclusion that doesn't get _both_ of you kicked out of here?"  
  
"But, that's all most people bother to look for."  John released the cat.  It flopped over and licked a paw, apparently satisfied for now.  "They hear the song, see the movies, remember the cliches, draw a conclusion and think that's all you get.  And you know what?"  
  
"What."  
  
John edged closer to Rodney's side, propped himself up on an elbow and looked into Rodney's eyes.  
  
"I think that's a real tragedy."  
  
Rodney swallowed.  "Go--go on."  
  
"Truth is," John's free hand stroked Rodney's cheek, firm and feather-soft, "once you've dug a little deeper, made the effort to understand them--once you've made a Siamese your friend, you find out just what fantastic creatures they really are.  Playful and loving and loyal and as devoted as any dog.  But way more cuddly, and they smell better."  
  
Rodney cracked a little smile.  John traced it with his fingers.  
  
"They're not for everyone, that's for sure.  But the ones who find themselves in love with a Siamese--" John leaned in to kiss his forehead, whispering to it "--know they've found something that's more than worth all the trouble, something very special, and they never, ever want to go back."  
  
Rodney looked up at him with huge eyes.  "Oh," he breathed, his tiny smile breaking into joy, "that was so.  You.  I didn't expect that."  
  
"You should.  Siamese are also very, very smart."  
  
"That _does_ sound like me," Rodney murmured, covered with all kinds of smug that just had to be kissed, and kissed, and kissed.  
  
"But if you _ever_ sing that song to me again," he broke through the kisses to say, and John just laughed and laughed.  "Do _not_ quit your day job to sing, although with that laugh you have some great potential for a side gig as a ventriloquist donkey--"  
  
"Aw, c'mon.  I thought me and the Meezer had a nice two-part harmony going."  
  
"This is _why_ you should stick to Cash."  
  
"Hee-haw."  
  
"Oh, god, killing myself again," and he stuck his head back in the hut, and John yelled "No, don't do it, you have so much to live for" and the cat yelled its head off some more too, and there was a manly tickle assault and a very manly heroic attempt to save him, until Rodney found the will to live again, by way of making out, lots of it, with long, lazy swipes of John's tongue against every part of Rodney it could reach.  
  
"Not _actually_ a cat, you know," he panted beneath a slow, delicious lick of his throat, "with the--" and flapped a languid hand.  "But, carry on."  
  
A few moments later:    
  
"But you don't _really_ want to--" John faltered, drawing back, and Rodney whined, "Well, if you _stop_ now--"  
  
"Right."  
  
But another few moments later John raised his head again:    
  
"You keep saying it--" he swept tiny, cherishing kisses across Rodney's forehead and cheeks, pressed them to his fluttering eyelids "--and I just--" his voice hitched "--whatever it is that makes you _want_ \--"  
  
Rodney started to feed him a _you-idiot_ look but stopped, felt the taut thrumming bowstring of John's body, read the question etched in the worried lines around John's mouth and eyes.    
  
"No," he finally admitted, subsiding under John's anxious touch, his watchful gaze, welcoming John back to the curve of his arms.  "I think I could keep living, forever, just like--"  
  
"Like--" John sighed, melting--  
  
"--exactly like this," and arched into the weight of John's warm drifting caress, smiled into the shape of John's kisses, Cheshire, ate the canary, name your cliche, all of it true and real and _theirs_.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a new Siamese-brand cat this week! I write this in his honor, and because it's something I've thought for a long time. If Rodney were a cat he would absolutely, in my opinion, at least, be Siamese. Everything John says about them is right. Pushy. Loud. Demanding. Needy. _Extremely_ high maintenance. But if you fall in love with them, like I did, you will never want anything else. The rewards for befriending a Siamese are priceless. You get an almost obsessively devoted and loyal pet, who's inquisitive and goofy and _very_ smart, with those beautiful blue eyes, who'll make you laugh and fill your days with companionship and cuddles.
> 
> Meezers for life!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
